The Last Bus
by SureFineWhatever
Summary: "I-I'll get the last bus.": A short continuation of 4.09.
1. Chapter 1

**Spooks, nor any of it's characters belong to me, but to the BBC and to Kudos...and it's probably a good thing too! :')**

**Please review if you can, they really do give me a boost to write more and improve!**

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"It's good to have you back."

"It's good to be back...I better get up to speed, lots of files to read. Wouldn't want to miss anything. Don't work too late."

"I, I'll get the last bus."

He turned back to her as she said this, noting the significance. She looked hauntingly beautiful in the light her desklamp sparingly illuminated her in. As he began to turn away, he smiled what he hoped she knew to be a genuine smile. She returned it with her own, and it was then that he knew all was right in the world...equilibrium had been restored once more.

Alone in his office, he reached out and took the first file in a daunting pile of many, and preceded to open it. Nothing had changed. The background reading was bound to be as gruelling as ever, his desk chair was back to its correct position, the drinks cabinet was well-stocked, and his coat was hung up as it always was, poised ready for a national emergency that may require him to dash from Thames House and join the rest of an unaware civilisation.

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The light from his office reassured her. The room shined like a bright red beacon in an otherwise empty Grid floor. She couldn't decide whether she was more comforted being left alone to work into the night, or knowing he was merely a few steps away, mirroring her labourious work ethic. The glass doors and panels made it almost impossible to ignore another presence in her periphery, and she decided to knuckle down, choosing to not waste anymore valuable time before the last bus arrived.

She thought of last night, and his appearance on her journey home. She felt exhilarated by her part in a classic spy drop-off...she very rarely got to experience this side of her job, and her experiences in the past were ones she'd rather not repeat. More than this however, seeing Harry in a non-professional capacity was a new pleasure that made her think all that night of how their 'relationship', for lack of a better phrase, was beginning to evolve and manifest itself. She'd delighted in the touch of his fingers against her own, but had immediately reprimanded herself for allowing her personal feelings to push themselves to the forefront of her thoughts and allow her heart to dictate rather than her head. To her, it was a scene right out of a film, she felt like the heroine of her own life for once, with an accidental brief encounter on the night bus home: One she wouldn't forget in a hurry, and one she hoped would be etched on his mind, as much as it would on hers.

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The last few days had been strange for Harry Pearce. Forced to experience life without a job, meant for the first time in years, he'd actually stayed in his house for an extended period of time. It was no longer becoming a quick-stop place for a shower and a bite to eat, but a place that would, or could begin to vaguely resemble a home. He noticed the leather-bound books on his shelves for the first time in years, he idly channel-flicked, marvelling at the idiots that somehow had crepted onto the screen since his last long session in front of the television. He was free to go on long walks, perhaps visit the dogs like he used to as a child with his father. Even the surveillance that had stayed on his toes since leaving Thames House had begun to amuse him...he wondered if he made interesting viewing and chuckled at the idea of a huddle of men all watching him on their tiny screens in a surveillance van, as he waited patiently for his beloved dog to discreetly 'do its business' in the nearby park. Not many people will ever be lucky enough to knowingly see the former head of Section D use a poop 'n' scoop, he joked to himself.

The food parcels that arrived at his house, barely a day after he left 5, were a pleasant suprise. It was a picnic hamper filled with ready-prepared meals and other treats. It even contained a bottle of his favourite malt. A note that came in the hamper had read:

'I couldn't stretch to 'meals-on-wheels', so I hope this is a happy alternative: my cooking skills may leave alot to be desired. There's a bottle of your favourite in there too...please don't take this as an encouragement for your daytime drinking habit of course, but you'll need something to get you through all that reality TV...

Take care Harry,  
Ruth.'

He wanted to thank her that night on the bus. He was tempted to stay longer, even just to watch her as she read her book. Just to observe her in that natural state of habit would have beaten being chauffeur-driven any day. He was embarassed to admit his failure to offer a lift that rainy evening long ago, but he felt her smile a curt reply, and was humbled at her reassurance that she liked the bus. He remembered her fingers glide over his in what seemed like slow-motion and the elegant arching of her arm over the railing of her seat. He felt both awkward and exhilarated, a nudging feeling he recognised whilst being on an op. It was not on the same scale of course, but his quickened heartbeat made him feel slightly breathless all the same.


	2. Chapter 2

**The long time coming (and feebly short) second chapter! Review, and I might just be encouraged to write more...ENJOY!**

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The cursor of her mouse hovered momentarily over the log-out icon on her computer screen. This hesitation to leave her workstation, she was embarassed to admit, was nothing to do with her reluctance to finish work for the night. Her eyes peered over the top of her computer screen to his office once more. She could see him diligantly pouring another small glass at his drinks cabinet. She smiled, noting to herself about old habits dying hard, and choosing to ignore that she had practically condoned his habit with the food parcel. Her eyes shifted back to her workstation, recognising that flash of embarassment she'd feel, were she to be caught staring. He had that powerful authoritative aura about him, where she half expected him to bark furiously "I can see you Miss Evershed, perhaps a little more attention on the work at hand is what's required!", and without so much as a turn of his head away from the drinks cabinet. If anyone other than teachers were to have the ability of having eyes at the backs of their heads, it would most certainly be spies.

In a few moments, she was ready to leave for the bus. She crossed the grid toward the pods, and yet in what she will always recall, if anyone were to ask, as an out-of-body experience (as much as it contradicted with her rational nature), she made her way to his office door. She slowly knocked twice and followed his granting of admission into the room. She stood by the door, one hand firmly on the handle.

"Off now Harry, if that's alright?" she inquired.

His head lifted from the document that had at that moment, seemed completely futile. "OK Ruth. Are you sure?" he replied.

Her brow furrowed, confused at what he was asking and cautious not to misunderstand. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, are you sure you don't want a lift? I have my driver of course." He hoped she understood that he wasn't merely asking out of duty, or to make up for past opportunities (though admittedly, it was partly that), but because he desired her company and valued her prescence in his life.

"Thank you," she answered, smiling her thanks gratefully. "but I have my book," tapping her bag lightly. "and as I said last night, I really don't mind the bus. Plus, I don't want to tear you away from your own reading; Juliet is a formidable taskmaster as we've all had the misfortune to discover."

He responded to her astute scrutiny of Juliet with a barely concealed chuckle that she secretly delighted in. Suddenly fearful she was at that moment about to leave, he asked rather feebly, "Hmm, so what book are you reading at the moment?" He cringed at how desperate he must have sounded.

Ruth delayed slightly."Umm, Persuasion. I always come back to it every now and then." Turning away from him, she slid the door open, but paused on his reply...

"Ahhh yes," he mused aloud, recalling the book "...missed opportunities." He looked at her then, and she, back at him.

"Goodnight Harry." she uttered. He nodded his own goodbye, and did not reach for his glass until he heard the final swoosh of the pod doors. He then reconvened with the inevitable sounds of silence he had come to know so well.


	3. Chapter 3

**Not sure what I think of this chapter, but here goes anyway...you never know if you don't try! :) Thanks for the reviews so far...**

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Why did she leave? Why didn't she just step further into the office, use that instinct that sent her bounding in there time after time again, whenever she needed to speak to him urgently. Why didn't she just accept this offer of a lift home?

She was pleased to see him walk through those pods doors earlier that evening, thrilled even. And yet when it came to accepting his invitation, she ran. She supposed she was just afraid of her own feelings, cautious of her own desires, nervous about conduct in the workplace with a colleague- but he was only offering a lift, wasn't he?

Stepping outside, she made her way to the bus stop, a place beginning to seem alot more depressing to her than usual. Last night, she welcomed his attempts at intimacy, encouraged them and shunned him when he failed to follow through. And now, he had made an effort to rectify that, and she had shot him down. Embarassed at her own stupidity, she willed herself to change the subject in her overactive brain, fearing a headache. Upon reaching the bus shelter and sitting a fair distance from another late-night traveller, she was relieved to have beaten the bus and checked her watch, remarking on its unusual lateness.

"Apparently it's gonna snow tonight," barked a rather scruffily-dressed man perched near her. "probably why it's a bit late."

Ruth decided not to question his logic of the likelihood snow in summer and nodded agreeably. She was always taken aback when words were exchanged on the streets of London, it so rarely happened. People kept to themselves, as if somehow a conversation would fiddle with the natural order of things. A rustle of a newspaper, a sneeze or mobilephone ringing was usually as close as it came to a friendly chat on the bus or tube. Ruth didn't really mind, she supposed, it give her a chance to people watch or read her book. But when someone did make an effort, it told her that there really was other human life in London, even if on this particular night, she did just want to be left alone. Last night was a welcome suprise; fleeting, wonderful and doomed.

Just as the man was about to drop another failed conversation starter, the bus zoomed noisily into sight. Grateful for it's arrival, she stepped forward to the edge of the kerb, alighted the bus and began once more her journey home, vowing to always accept lifts from the people you're in love with should they ever decide to ask.


	4. Chapter 4

**The final chapter I think! This is my first ever attempt at fluff, so do review if you have time :)**

**Again, Spooks and the characters of Ruth and Harry sadly do not belong to me. The BBC and Kudos have it all!**

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He knew why she had gone. He was her boss again, and certain protocol had to be followed. Last night was his window of opportunity to move things forward as someone other than her superior. Last night, he was her ex-boss, someone she was to see again rarely unless they both wanted more. She wanted more, she must have, and he blew it. Their meeting was clandestine, sensual and significant. He could still see her, as if he was there once more; the back of her head was even fascinating he seemed to recall. Their conversation was flirtateous, daring, brief and yet meaningful. He wasn't 'some weirdo', but as he thought of her now, on the bus alone, he knew someone else probably was.

He took another habitual swig of his drink. He no longer tasted it, but just savoured in the firey path as it blazed through his very core. She had done this to him also: made a mark on the very centre of his being. She remained an irrepressable high. The adverse affects of alcohol certainly outweighed the affects of Ruth on his health, and yet he dare not move to satiate his addiction to her.

Finishing his drink and choosing to abandon the files in front of him, he moved from the desk and retrieved his long coat from its hook. He turned to take in one last look at his office. It was returned to him once more, and he was grateful. He sighed, knowing that the affection he felt at that moment would quickly be diminished early the next morning, when he'd storm in there once more, thoroughly frustrated by the traffic and another superfluous and speculating news report he'd overheard whilst drinking his morning coffee. With his, he switched off the light and left the room in the direction of the pods.

"Still burning the midnight oil then?" called a voice, drifting over the Grid and stopping Harry in his path. He turned in the direction of that beautiful utterance and saw her.

She stood by the side of her desk, bathed once more in the lamp light. She was radiant to him. A vision in the darkness.

Harry was hesitant in his reply, doubting she was really before him. "Someone's got to in this job, as only you know too well Ruth,"

He moved closer, "You missed the bus?"

"I, I got off the bus." She paused, "'Some weirdo' tried to engage me in a conversation about the weather. Usually I would have humoured him, but I've been spoiled," Harry tilted his head to the side at this, willing her to go on. "my conversations on the buses of late have been far more stimulating. Though if somewhat, cautious."

Ruth looked down, unsure if she had been too forward. She couldn't quite comprehend that she was there again, and swiftly recounted her mind's steps in deciding to return to the Grid in the hope of catching him. When she raised her head, he was much closer. Close enough so she could see the glint of his eyes, reflecting from the desk lamp next to her.

"I came back to see if, perhaps, we could try again...no more 'missed opportunities' Harry." She urged him to understand to what she was referring, not wanting any more grey areas in their relationship where there was ample room for misinterpretation and hurt.

"No more missed opportunities," Harry repeated simply. He understood perfectly well. Moving closer still, he moved across her and switched off the lamp, leaving them darkness except for the lit pods that provided their only exit. As he move back away from the lamp, he felt the nearness of her, her breath on his neck. To him, she was an angel, and he was merely lucky to have her so close to bask in her supreme wonder. "I want to love you," he whispered. His lips were inches from hers, and it was almost as if these words were physically exchanged, tangible in the atmosphere they alone had created together, "let me love you."

"Always." she replied, and with that they kissed. It was searching, devouring, loving, all consuming. Breathless, they reluctantly parted and silently made their way to the pods, both completely suprised at how uncharacteristly straight-forward they had been with each other. Together they felt a new leaf and a new page was being turned, and it began with them.

Silently they entered a pod with one another, smiling tentatively, neither daring to wake themselves from this dream.

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***explodes from a good-natured fluff overdose***

**Thanks for reading! Review if you can :)**


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